


Derek's Chest is Not a Pillow

by whenshewrites



Series: A Collection of One-Shots and Tumblr Prompts [16]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Derek Hale Takes Care of Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale is a Softie, Derek Hale's Leather Jacket, Fluff, Humor, Idiots in Love, M/M, Monster of the Week, One Shot, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Pre-Slash, Sharing Clothes, Stiles Stilinski is a Mess, The Hale Pack - Freeform, The Pack Ships It, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:02:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25617793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whenshewrites/pseuds/whenshewrites
Summary: “You know,” Stiles said, wrapping his arms around his knees as they sat on the steps of the old Hale house and gazed out over the preserve. “This wasn’t exactly how I expected to spend my Friday night.”“That makes two of us.”“Oh, come on, Sourwolf,” he said. “What were you going to do? Other than grump around and maybe read a book, that is.”Derek gave him a flat red-eyed look. Stiles just grinned.“You know I’m right.”
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Series: A Collection of One-Shots and Tumblr Prompts [16]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1956889
Comments: 21
Kudos: 600





	Derek's Chest is Not a Pillow

Stiles blamed Derek.

Okay, that was a rather open-ended sentence. There were a lot of things Stiles could blame Derek for. Like the fact that his dad made him keep his door open most nights. Like the fact Stiles could wake up the second he heard his bedroom window sliding open. Like the fact that he’d was almost always bait when it came to the current Monster of the Week.

This time, Stiles blamed Derek because they were both currently stuck out in the preserve, both of them having had drawn the short-end sticks for ‘keeping watch that night’.

Keeping watch his ass.

Stiles blame the omega that had been spotted running around town as well. He supposed he had to, if he was being fair. Not all of this was Derek’s fault.

Still, Stiles was feeling bitter.

“You know,” he said, wrapping his arms around his knees as they sat on the steps of the old Hale house and gazed out over the preserve. “This wasn’t exactly how I expected to spend my Friday night.”

“That makes two of us.”

“Oh, come on, Sourwolf,” Stiles said. “What were you going to do? Other than grump around and maybe read a book, that is.”

Derek gave him a flat red-eyed look. Stiles just grinned.

“You know I’m right.”

“Like you would’ve had anything better to do.”

“For your information, I totally planned on catching up on my beauty sleep and maybe playing a couple hours of video games. Like, you know, a normal seventeen-year-old teenager. One that doesn’t spend his entire week running after rogue werewolves and forgetting his has homework until literally two o’clock at night.”

Derek’s red-eyed look faded a little. The man huffed and turned his gaze back outward, not saying a word. Realizing he might have struck a nerve, Stiles nudged his arm with a grin.

“Oh come on. It’s not like I don’t love chasing monsters around time with your grumpy werewolf ass, Sourwolf. Don’t get all moody on me now.”

“I’m not moody.”

“You are so moody.”

The man’s eyes narrowed, focused out on the preserve, and Stiles sighed mournfully. 

“I’m just saying that next time? No drawing sticks. Just growl your puppies into submission or something, would you? It’s late, I’m tired, and it’s freaking cold out here.”

Derek glanced sideways again, eyes roving over Stiles and his thin red sweatshirt, before he made a non-committal noise. And then before Stiles could say a word, the man was slipping off his leather jacket and wrapped it aground Stiles’s shoulders, looking like the action was physically painful to him or something.

Stiles squeaked and tried to shake him off, but then he was wrapped in a layer of leathery goodness and Derek was frowning at nothingness again. Stiles gaped at him.

“Uh, dude?”

“Shut up.”

Stiles thought there were a lot of things he could say to that but instead, he just snapped his jaw shut and turned his gaze back outward too. They sat in silence for a long moment before Stiles risked speaking again.

“Okay, but seriously. Next time, no drawing straws.”

“It’s not that bad, Stiles.”

“We’re currently sitting out in the middle of nowhere in the darkness at…” Stiles pulled out his phone and checked it before groaning. “At two in the morning. You wouldn’t even let me bring snacks.”

“Do people bring out snacks where there could be bears around?”

“Well, no, but—”

“The omega has a keen sense of smell just like a bear except he’s human. He has a humanistic thought process of his own, feral or not. You really want it coming straight for us because you wanted some cheetos?”

“Oh come on,” Stiles grumbled. “You’re the big bad Alpha of Beacon Hills. Any omega knows better than to mess with us.”

He thought the man gave him a strange look. Stiles just raised an eyebrow.

“What?”

“Us?”

Stiles felt his face grow warm, quickly turning his face away. He ran a hand through his hair, Derek’s giant leather jacket sleeve brushing against his forehead. It was unfairly gigantic, Stiles thought. And it was also unfairly warm.

“I didn’t mean us,  _ us,”  _ he said, trying to ignore the way Derek’s eyes searched his face. “Like… us. The pack. The puppies. You know.  _ Us.” _

He thought Derek’s face softened a little bit at that. Stiles swallowed hard, resting his hands between his knees as he gazed back out at the preserve.

“But yeah. ‘Us’ too. I mean, it seems like I’m always stuck with your furry ass when we get stuck out here, right?”

Derek rolled his eyes, turning his gaze back outward too. They sat until Stiles started to yawn and then the man gave him another look, brows drawing together.

“We can head back.”

“No way, Sourwolf, we’re on the night shift. Guardians of Beacon Hills. Protectors of the preserve. My beauty sleep can wait until tomorrow, okay?”

“You look like you’re about to topple over.”

“Whatever,” Stiles said, snorting. “I am not. Just… sit still and if I fall asleep on your shoulder, elbow me awake or something, alright?”

Derek snorted softly. Stiles grinned, blinking hard a few times and then nestling down in the warmth of Derek’s jacket. The cool breeze picked up, whispering goosebumps across his skin.

He didn’t actually mean to fall asleep.

Except when he came back to reality, something was jostling him, Stiles was pretty sure he was being picked up, and he groaned, nuzzling his face further into the warmth of whatever he had claimed as a pillow. He thought he heard a faint chuckle.

“Stiles, stay still.”

“No,” Stiles said, still only half-awake. “You’re soft and warm and I don’t want you to move. You stay still.”

“Just go back to sleep. Okay?”

Sleep. That’s right. Stiles had been totally planning on using this entire weekend to catch up on his beauty rest, maybe play some video games, and—

He snapped awake so fast, Stiles narrowly avoided smacking Derek across the face. The man grunted as Stiles nearly flailed out of his arms and Stiles realized with a start that he was being  _ carried,  _ and Derek’s jacket was still wrapped around his shoulder and  _ oh, shit.  _ Derek’s chest was so not a pillow.

Said chest rumbled a little and Stiles’s eyes rounded as he realized he’d literally said all of that out loud. Instantly, he regretted everything.

“Stop freaking out,” Derek said. “Your heartbeat is going crazy.”

“Oh my god, dude—”

“It’s six in the morning. I’m taking you home.”

Stiles blinked up at him a few times. And it really wasn’t fair how easily Derek was holding him bridal style, situating himself as they reached the Camaro so he could open the passenger side door without ever accidentally dropping Stiles to the dirt.

Which he supposed he was grateful for.

The man lowered him into the seat and Stiles was still blinking sleep from his eyes as a seatbelt crossed his chest and then Derek was climbing into the driver’s seat opposite him. He blinked blearily at the man and Derek ignored his gaze, starting the car.

“Dude, I totally just fell asleep on you. For like, four solid hours.”

“It’s fine.”

“I thought you were going to elbow me awake.”

“I… forgot.”

Stiles didn’t have to be a werewolf to hear the lie in the man’s voice. Still, some part of his chest warmed and he thought he could live with pretending that’s what it was. If it spared Derek’s pride, at least.

Stiles tried to remember what he could but it all kind of faded out after he remembered actually falling asleep on Derek’s shoulder, unable to keep his eyes open any longer.

Oh god, he’d fallen asleep on Derek Hale and the man hadn’t murdered him.

“I wouldn’t murder you, Stiles.

And apparently, he was still talking out loud.

Stiles clamped his mouth shut and made it his mission not to say a word for the rest of the drive back to his house. Which really wasn’t that hard as he found himself falling asleep once again. And by the time the Camaro had slowly, parking in the empty driveway, Stiles was fast asleep against the window and he nearly fell out when Derek opened the door open, the only thing keeping him in place being his seatbelt.

Stiles floundered for a moment, disoriented, and Derek unbuckled him. Then the man scooped him up like he was a sack of potatoes and carried Stiles toward the house.

Stiles felt like he was five years old again, falling asleep on the couch and waking up in his bedroom.

He smirked up at the man, too tired to come up with something witty, but Derek must have read his expression because he just rolled his eyes. And then he totally dropped Stiles from a higher height than necessary onto his bed when they got upstairs and Stiles grunted, turning his face into his pillows.

“Dude, that was such a rude awakening for so much earlier softness.”

Derek just huffed, kneeling to the floor and pulling off his shoes. Stiles wrinkled his nose in protest.

“I’m not really five years old, Derek. I can take care of myself.”

The man ignored him, tossing his shoes aside and then pushing himself up. Stiles blinked tiredly at him and Derek shifted from foot to foot, the color red spreading all the way to the tips of his ears. Stiles thought that looked adorable.

“Shut up.”

And he was talking out loud again.

“You can… take care of the rest,” Derek said, gesturing aimlessly at him. Stiles smirked again and the man’s face turned redder, turning away. But then suddenly, Stiles was leaning forward.

“Derek, wait—”

Derek went stock-still in the doorway. Stiles swallowed hard and ran a hand through his hair, toeing nervously at the carpet. “You could stay, you know. If you didn’t want to drive back to the loft.”

The look the man gave him was nothing other than soft amusement. Stiles felt his face burn.

“Only if you wanted to.”

“To stay here.”

“The bed’s big enough for two.”

Derek looked at him quietly for a long moment. Then he moved over and Stiles’s heart leaped— only to plunge as Derek sat him up, tugged off his leather jacket, and then pulled the covers up to Stiles’s chin. Like he really was five years old or anything.

But instead of leaving, giving him a disturbed look, or even saying a word to shoot him down, Derek hung the jacket over the back of Stiles’s desk chair, flipped off the overhead light, and then gave Stiles a final look.

“Get some sleep.”

“Yeah, right. Uh, do you want me to launder your jacket or something before I bring it back?”

“Or something.”

Stiles’s breaths stalled in his throat. And then when Derek smirked, he was pretty sure he was dreaming. This entire night had been a hallucination of some kind. 

“Get your beauty sleep first,” Derek said. “You need it.”

“Okay, first of all, that’s rude—”

But the man was shutting the door before Stiles could say another word. He gawked at it for a moment, closed his mouth, and then heard the faint sound of the Camaro starting. And then Stiles smiled a little to himself; soft and secret.

And if he wore the leather jacket again the next morning, sitting crisscrossed on his bed playing video games, no one had to know. No one had to know until Derek came swooping in through his window, at least, scaring Stiles straight to the floor.

This time, when the man smirked, Stiles knew he wasn’t dreaming.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt; “You’re soft and warm and I don’t want you to move.” and I just love writing some soft fluff. Of course, I'd love to hear what you all thought! Feel free to swing by my Tumblr if you'd like to see me write a prompt of your own ;)
> 
> Come hang with me on Tumblr?
> 
> [the dumpster](https://when-she-writes-stuff.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Or on my favorite Sterek discord!
> 
> [not a dumpster](https://discord.gg/78RjqwY)


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